Aya Ran Away - Chapter 37

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Chapter 37
Her stomach churned as though it had been beaten raw.
In that instant, every scent around her crashed over her like a wave.
The bitter water, the wine, the fragrance that clung to the veil draped over her, the perfumed oil coating her hair, the distinctive smell of the carpet beneath her knees, even the acrid smoke from the priests’ candles—all of it at once.
Nausea rose up, unstoppable.
Bile climbed into her throat.
She held her breath and clamped a hand over her mouth, fighting it with everything she had, but her shoulders heaved and her back convulsed.
Her mind screamed no, but her body had left her will behind.
She was going to humiliate herself.
In front of all these people.
As she trembled with despair, Nahal felt the shift and turned her body, drawing her against him like a shield.
Within his embrace, her frame bent and Aya vomited up liquid that reeked of wine.
She gripped his collar with both hands.
Even in her shame, relief washed over her—she had protected him by her own strength.
That she had soiled his clothes was regrettable, but it could not be helped.
Once it was over, she felt slightly better.
The miasma from that day had been so potent it had overpowered her completely, but this one—even after she had swallowed it—had not seized her the same way.
Whether it had dissolved within her body or whether she had expelled it—
She could no longer feel it or see it.
‘Thank the gods.’
She had braced for the worst. By comparison, this was merciful.
Yet the pain had not entirely faded; her whole body was drenched in cold sweat.
Aya went limp.
When her retching seemed to ease, Nahal turned her around in his arms.
The moment he reached to lift away her veil so he could see her face—
Cipor, who had drawn near with worry etched across her features, saw Aya’s bare face and let out a shriek like a death cry.
“Blood!”
‘It’s wine, not blood, you fool…….’
That was what Aya thought, even as her half-sister recoiled in alarm.
But then she saw Nahal’s face go pale, and unease seized her.
‘No.’
Surely she hadn’t actually coughed up blood?
She felt Nahal rise abruptly, still holding her, and stride down from the dais.
Cradled in his arms, Aya felt space blur and rush past.
The king was running.
“Fetch a physician at once!”
He was shouting it.
As they passed, she heard the crowd cry out and murmur in confusion.
“Someone has poisoned the king’s cup!”
At that shout erupting from somewhere in the throng, Aya found herself tensing instinctively, struggling to lift herself from his embrace.
‘No, it wasn’t poison—’
“Lie still.”
Nahal pressed the back of her head, keeping her pinned against his chest.
His embrace was like a cradle fitted perfectly to her body.
Even as he ran, there was no violent jolting, and where their skin touched, his warmth was exactly pleasant.
Aya tried to see his face through her dimming vision.
But the veil, fluttering loose as he ran, fell across her face again.
Through the white cloth, the outline of his features wavered and shifted.
She reached up with a trembling hand and pressed her palm against his cheek.
The vivid warmth beneath her fingers steadied her.
‘At least he’s safe.’
With that thought, she closed her eyes.
* * *
“No poison was detected, so they report.”
Bardal gave his account of the incident.
The cup had been sealed; the remaining wine was set aside for examination.
The priest who had held the cup, the servants who poured the wine, the steward who kept the stores—all had been questioned.
Yet after two days, nothing of substance had emerged.
Nahal listened to Bardal’s report in silence.
His jaw was clenched so tightly that his lower face jutted with tension.
Heat flooded his head; his fingers felt cool against his brow as he pressed them there.
“It wasn’t a poison that would show up in a reagent test, then.”
Nahal murmured the words aloud.
There was no doubt that Aya had consumed the poison instead.
He could say it with absolute certainty.
The moment their eyes met—when she seized the cup from his hand—he had read something in her gaze.
Even as she did something unthinkable, the emotion that flickered in those eyes as she looked up at him was relief.
Now her condition had stabilized, but in those first moments, he’d thought the woman in his arms was truly dying.
Blood had poured from her nose, her eyes, her ears.
Her body had gone rigid; her warmth drained away.
She’d been so light in his arms—as if she might scatter into the air at any moment—and Nahal felt himself teetering toward madness.
‘You can’t die like this. You mustn’t die for me alone.’
He couldn’t remember why, but it seemed he’d repeated those words like a litany.
Rarely had anyone sacrificed themselves for his sake.
Was that why he felt this way?
The instant he’d watched that small woman throw herself into danger, he’d felt utterly powerless.
Had she come to matter to him so much?
The thought struck him anew.
He’d run across the Temple, shouting, to save her.
He’d forgotten the new king’s dignity, his honor, every protocol he should have upheld.
The Temple’s Healing Magic proved more effective than the physicians who’d rushed over from the Royal Palace.
Fortunately, the woman had received the Temple’s Healing Magic in time and quickly stabilized.
He’d watched as she received treatment, her whole body drenched in sweat, watched as the attendants wiped the blood from her face.
Only after confirming that the bleeding had ceased, only after hearing her breathe steadily, did his mind finally return to rational thought.
That had been two days ago.
Nahal had ordered an investigation immediately, and the woman hadn’t opened her eyes until just after noon today.
The fear that she might never wake—it had drained the blood from his face.
“That’s correct. There may be a component that doesn’t react to standard reagent tests. However… when we fed the remaining contents to an animal, there was no effect. We tested the cup using the same method and found nothing. The Wine showed no abnormalities either.”
Rebanan continued, measuring Nahal’s reaction carefully.
“I’ve never heard of a poison whose toxicity fades with time.”
“What are you trying to say?”
Rebanan swallowed hard at the sharp edge in his voice.
Nahal’s own men had never wished for the princess’s death.
Most of them had seen her face stained with blood that day.
It had been a sight pitiful enough to leave anyone speechless.
Yet such compassion would not serve as proof of innocence.
“I don’t mean to cast suspicion on Her Highness. But how did she know to look for a poison that couldn’t be detected by ordinary means in Your Highness’s cup…?”
Before Rebanan could finish, Nahal lifted his head and turned to look directly at his subordinate’s face.
Veins stood out visibly on his forehead.
Rebanan took an involuntary step backward.
“What possible implication are you making with such words?”
At the aggressive tone, Bardal closed and opened his eyes sharply.
He gestured for Rebanan to step back with a subtle nod.
The other attendants didn’t dare make a sound.
It was perfectly clear to them all that their lord was more agitated than usual.
Agitation clouds reason.
This was no good sign.
Snua, observing the entire scene, spoke as if with a weary sigh.
“There are those who view this as a Self-Directed Scheme.”
Bang!
Nahal brought his fist down on the wooden table beside him.
It was rare for him to express his anger in such a manner.
The table’s legs tilted and collapsed under the impact.
His eyes blazed with feverish intensity.
Nahal spoke through gritted teeth.
“Who dares spout such nonsense?”
“There are no voices speaking it openly, but such is the prevailing opinion.”
Snua continued with an impassive face.
“An incident like this occurred at an event overseen by the Temple. This has given Your Highness grounds to hold the Temple accountable and to interrogate the priests.”
There is talk that the new king seeks to seize control over the Temple.
“It’s just a delusion born from thinking they’d be the same as me.”
Nahal chuckled coldly, murmuring the words to himself.
“Regardless of whether it’s true, there is concern that relations with the Temple may be damaged.”

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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